


Stolen Glances and New Romances

by modernpatroclus



Series: In Any Reality [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Smoaking Billionaires if you squint, flommy if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modernpatroclus/pseuds/modernpatroclus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt, "I work at the animal shelter and you always come in to pet the cats when you’re sad."<br/>Oliver and Tommy are condemned to nighttime community service after a drunken incident, and it's pretty bleak until someone unexpected comes in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen Glances and New Romances

**Author's Note:**

> A little bit of Tommy/Oliver, a little bit of Flommy, a little bit of smoaking billionaires, a lotta bit of Olicity - it's a party.  
> Title kind of comes from "Suddenly" by The Madden Brothers because my brain doesn't want to think of anything not music-related.

Oliver backs away from the hissing cat, hands braced like that would do anything to stop it from lunging – but of course not, because “cats do whatever the hell they want, Ollie,” Tommy quips from where his head is currently stuck inside of a bird cage, cleaning it out.

Oliver rolls his eyes and latches the cage before the cat can prove his friend’s point. “Yeah, I know. I got stuck with them while _you_ get to clean out things that don’t have claws.”

“Ah, c’mon, Ollie. It’s not so bad. At least if any cute girls come in, we look like caring, sweet guys taking care of the poor sheltered animals,” he says with an air of sympathy, trying to pet the bird whose cage he’s invading, but it pecks at his fingers.

Oliver snorts and starts on to the next cat cage before replying, “Yeah, well if they ever meet Laurel then she’ll make sure that they know exactly what a ‘lying scumbag’ I am.”

“Hey, she’s just mad that you went to that party last night after you told her that you couldn’t have dinner with her family because you were sick. Honestly dude, you’re one of the worst liars I’ve ever seen. With your name, you can’t fly under the radar around here.”

“Yeah, okay, _Merlyn._ You have as much name recognition as me, and you were letting half of our high school class take body shots off you,” Oliver reminds, annoyed with Tommy for being right.

“Yeah, but _I_ am single and can do whatever I want, and _you_ have a very committed girlfriend who’s about ready to propose to you,” he argues, closing the bird cage before moving on to a dog’s. “Seriously, man, just break up with her already. You don’t wanna be tied down, I get it. But stringing her along like this is just like watching a bad chick flick. Seriously, I’m waiting for the other guy to come in and sweep her off her feet after he punches you in the face,” Tommy says.

“What?” Oliver asks, totally confused about what Tommy’s even getting at.

“I dunno, I think I saw a movie like that once.” He shakes his head and bats at the air with his free hand, saying, “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. You just need to end it. I don’t get why you’re still with Laurel. You two don’t even _like_ each other half the time.”

Oliver sighs and goes to run his hands through his hair before he remembers that he recently buzzed it all off on a snap-decision. “Tommy, I’ve _tried_ to break up with her before. But we always end up getting back together.”

“Yeah, and it all makes absolutely zero sense whatsoever. You just need to meet someone new, get out of your old habits,” Tommy says, coming around and clapping a hand over his friend’s shoulder just as the bell over the door sounds, letting them know someone just came in.

They both turn and look to see who could _possibly_ be coming into the animal shelter in the middle of the Glades at nearly three in the morning. They’re disappointed that it’s not the cop assigned to watch over them to let them off for the night who’d gone out nearly twenty minutes ago for a smoke break, and confused because _hello, it’s 3am_.

Instead, they see the back of someone clad head-to-toe in a black hoodie and jeans, complete with the hood pulled up. When the person shuts the door blocking the chilly night air and turns around, their disappointment makes way for pleasant surprise when the person walks a few feet into the store, giving them a better look.

Under the hood, Oliver sees a black-haired girl around their age, determinedly avoiding eye contact with either him or Tommy.

“Hello there, hot goth girl,” Tommy murmurs under his breath, prompting a quiet huff of amusement from his friend. “Hey, what’s up? If you’re here to adopt an animal, we can’t help you. We’re volunteers.” Oliver refrains from rolling his eyes at his friend’s poorly concealed flirting technique.

The girl, however, just shakes her head and keeps walking toward them. As she gets closer, Oliver can see streaks of purple mixed in with her black hair. Normally, he wouldn’t even pay attention to it. But he kind of likes it on her.

“I just wanted to pet the cats,” she says in a scratchy voice that reminds Oliver of how his twelve year old sister Thea sounds after she’s been crying. As the girl gets closer, he can tell why her hood is up: Her make up is smudged and her eyes are red.

Okay, when he’s sad his first instinct isn’t to come into the Glades at the worst possible time to _pet the cats._

The girl stops a couple feet away from Oliver and reaches over to the crate with the cat that had tried to maul him a few minutes ago. He’s about to warn her away from it when the cat miraculously leans into her – not surprisingly – black-nailed hand and _purs._

“How – how did you do that?” Oliver asks in disbelief, gaping at the demon-cat that’s acting like the sweetest house pet in the world to this girl who clearly likes to look tough but is kind of failing with the sad but soft look she’s giving said cat.

Oliver and Tommy exchange a look, both having noticed her red-rimmed eyes and subtle sniffle that she’d tried to cover up with a cough. But she clearly wants to pretend that there’s absolutely nothing strange about this situation, so Tommy breaks the silence before it can get too awkward.

“Do you always come here at three in the morning to pet the cats?” Tommy asks curiously, amusement coloring his tone as he throws a charming grin at the girl who’s trying to look unamused, still not making eye contact.

For a minute, Oliver thinks she’s not even going to answer. But she surprises them both with a simple but surprisingly honest, “Only when I’m sad.” They both wait for her to go on, but she just keeps petting that damn cat, and it’s clear that it’s all they’re gonna get for now.

“Well, you enjoy your cat. That’s Ollie’s favorite, too,” Tommy says, giving her a wink and walking away into the back room with the bigger animals, leaving Oliver with the girl and the cat, who Oliver swears is gloating at him from all the attention this girl is giving it.

Oliver clears his throat, going back to cleaning out the cage next to it, and says, “I’m Oliver.” He has no idea why, but he doesn’t want this girl calling him ‘Ollie.’ She seems like an honest, no-bull kind of person, and the childhood nickname has felt more and more fake every day.

She hums in acknowledgment of his introduction and says, “I’m Felicity.”

That surprises him a little. He was expecting something more fitting with her appearance. When he realizes how little sense that makes, seeing as how that’s definitely _not_ how babies are named, Oliver shakes his head slightly and says, “Well there’s one you don’t hear every day. I kind of like it.” Then he starts to backtrack at the halfway compliment, kicking himself, when she surprises him again with a laugh.

“Thanks . . . kind of,” she says, finally pulling back her hood and looking up at him.

Her bright blue eyes, even framed with the smeared remnants of heavy black eyeliner, take him by surprise. He gets his first good look at her face, and he finds himself wanting to make her laugh again.

Despite the crying she’s obviously been doing, she has a light look about her that doesn’t quite fit with her goth look, but makes sense with the way she’s been handling the demon-cat. And the laugh has removed the defensive look she’d been wearing, leaving exhaustion in its place. But given the hour and fact that she’s been crying, it’s much more natural than her guarded look, even with her angry attire.

She lifts an eyebrow and just looks at him questioningly. When he doesn’t respond, she says, “You’re staring.”

Oliver can feel a blush coating his cheeks, and he shakes his head, hoping she won’t notice. “Sorry, um . . .” Since when does Oliver Queen not know how to talk to women? And since when does he _blush?_

Felicity doesn’t say anything; she’s just looking up at him, making his stomach flutter. He gives an awkward chuckle and rubs at the back of his neck. “You’re just not at all what I was expecting when I came here tonight.”

She just gives him a soft smile and bites her lip when he sees the faintest pink tinge her cheeks. “You’re very generous with the compliments, I see,” she says, but he can hear the teasing tone.

Oliver feels yet _another_ blush rise, and following her earlier example with the crying, chooses to ignore it smiles back at her. (Later, when he thinks back on it, he’ll realize how it was the first genuine one he’d given in weeks.)

“You’re not totally what I expected when I came in here either,” she offers, and he’s half-scared, half-excited to hear her elaboration. “Usually it’s just woman who works here or the creepy guy, Ray, who donates money to the place and always tries to get me to drop out of school to come work for him. And yes, it’s just as creepy as it sounds,” she says in a fast-paced babble, and Oliver doesn’t try to stop the way his mouth ticks up at one corner.

“Not to pry, but how often do you come here? You can’t be sad all the time,” he says, hoping it doesn’t come out wrong.

To his relief, she just looks back at her hand still stroking the cat. She doesn’t say anything for a minute, and he’s afraid he made her put that defensive wall back up. But then she says, “I didn’t used to, but my boyfriend . . . He died a few weeks ago, and it’s been pretty rough.” Her voice is quiet and it deepens slightly with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver offers, because he has no idea of what else there _is_ to say. He reaches out a hand to – what? Pat her arm? – when he realizes what he’s doing and pulls it back, letting it fall to his side.

Felicity sniffles again, but gives a half-hearted laugh. “Thanks. I’m slowly getting over it, and coming here helps. Even when I’m unfortunate enough to run into Mr. Palmer when I do.”

Silence falls for a minute, the only sound of the cat purring and Tommy rummaging around in the back room. Probably pretending to work once he realized they stopped talking.

“Well, I know what else helps when I’m sad,” Oliver says after a minute, an idea coming to him.

She looks up at him again, and Oliver is relieved to see that there are no fresh tears. “What?”

Oliver meets her gaze and asks, in all seriousness, “Have you ever gotten drunk and gotten into a fight with someone and then broken a window, leading to that person’s cop-father to come and arrest you?”

Oliver watches a myriad of reactions flit across her face: confusion, shock, incredulity, and finally, amusement.

“Is that why you’re cleaning out cat cages at three in the morning? As community service for breaking this window?”

Oliver laughs and looks at the floor and says, “Maybe. But it did make me feel better. Until I got arrested, then I felt pretty shitty about it. But it didn’t turn out so bad in the end,” he says, looking back up at her and giving her a charming grin Tommy would be proud of. “I might have to come back and do this more often. Apparently, cats are therapeutic without the cops getting involved.”

He’s glad to see that it worked to cheer her up from his accidental reminder of her dead boyfriend.

“Yes, and they love you back,” she says, glancing at the cat that’s still melting under her touch.

“Well, not all of us are natural-born cat whisperers,” Oliver teases, and she gives him a dimpled grin in return.

“If you come back some time, I can teach you,” she says, biting her lip and looking back at the cat.

Oliver smiles and is about to reply when Tommy bursts out from the back room and exclaims that a dog just peed on his shoe.

Felicity bursts out laughing and Tommy quirks an eyebrow at Oliver, silently asking about Felicity’s noticeable change in demeanor since coming in. Oliver just shrugs and watches Felicity with a small smile, thinking how he just might be able to finally break things off with Laurel tomorrow, once and for all.

He barely knows Felicity, and she’s clearly still grieving her ex, but if Oliver can help her get past it and bring that light out of her that’s been dimmed, he’s willing to clean aggressive cats’ cages every night.

**Author's Note:**

> Lame ending, I know. But I had no plans for this, so here's what I came up with.  
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know with a comment!


End file.
